


Say Something

by LostInCircles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 6.20 The Man Who Would Be King, Music Monday, Say Something - A Great Big World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:39:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInCircles/pseuds/LostInCircles





	Say Something

I sat on the bench, the stone damp from recently melted snow. The moisture seeped into the cotton-polyester blend of my favorite skirt, but I barely even noticed. This park existed in a technological deadzone, which kept most people away. I relied on the wi-fi free area to create a peaceful retreat for my lunch hour. My light brown eyes stung from the exhaustion of staring at computer screens all morning long so I shut them for the length of time it took to breathe in a lungful of cold, fresh air. A crow cawed, but most other animals were still bunkered down from the recent storm.

I pulled out my hearing aids. Relief flooded tense shoulders, relaxed fingers out from the fists they clench into when I’m around others for too long. I settled into forty minutes of unbreachable silence with nothing but the way the wind dances through the leaves and a cold ham sandwich and Red Bull to occupy me.

I took a large bite, instantly regretting the money I thought I could save buying cheaper cheese. Lesson learned. The sun sparkled across the mostly unbroken crust of the snow. I sat still, staring at the same patch where a single yellow flower poked its head through, checking for the all clear for the others waiting just below. I waited, watching closely, hoping if I sat still enough I could feel some small sign that the earth was in fact rotating or revolving, moving in some direction away from the past. I pushed those thoughts from my mind. I wasn’t here to dwell. I just hoped more space would dull the edges enough I could allow it to escape my nightmares.

A quick but incredibly intense pain erupted deep inside my ear canal. I’d felt it only once before, on the playground of my elementary school, right before I lost my natural hearing.

“You know I’ve… I’ve been here for a very long time,” a gravelly male spoke low. He didn’t sound too close but I quickly glanced to look for my intruder. Nobody was around. I couldn’t recall hearing anybody approach, but then again I was trying very hard to tune everything out. “I remember many things,” he continued. Annoyed, I began to reach up for my ears. I preferred silence for lunch but with all the chaos at work this week I must have forgotten to take the hearing aids out. They were out already, though, sitting on top of the lunch box next to me.

I’d finally done it. I’d snapped and lost my mind. I couldn’t remember which disease it was that made you hear voices but I knew that must be what I had. Except this story was far too imaginative for my brain to invent it. Beside, weren’t the voices in your head supposed to talk to you? He seemed to be trying to reach somebody else.

I slowly stood up from the cold bench. I took a few tentative steps and paused. I could feel the snow softly crunching under my feet, but I couldn’t hear it. I couldn’t hear the crow in the tree conversing with a neighbor or the rustle of his wings as he flew off. I could just hear that male voice telling his bizarre story. He sounded concerned and maybe sad, but definitely desperate to be heard.

As quietly as I could without actually being able to hear myself move, I headed in the direction of his voice. As I neared, I began to wonder what I thought I was doing. Here I was, alone and mostly deaf, approaching a lunatic. Fear and fascination filled me. He seemed like a fairly normal man, albeit with a shockingly beautiful face, wearing a light brown trench coat to keep warm.

He sat on a bench with his hands in his lap. His blue tie hung in a mess around his neck. Brown hair looked soft, tempting to run a hand through it. A puff of condensation formed at his lips as he spoke. The longer I watched him and the longer I listened, the more I sensed I just viscerally knew him. Except he must have looked different when I knew him last.

I slowly grew comfortable being near his presence. I casually leaned against a tree, still careful to remain out of sight. Enthralled, I listened to his story. As his voice grew more needy and demanding, it stirred me to move. Yet I stayed hiding behind the tree.

“I believe it’s what you would call a tragedy from the human perspective. But maybe the human perspective is limited. I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you, Father. One last time. Am I doing the right thing? Am I on the right path? You have to tell me. You have to give me a sign. Give me a sign. Because if you don’t. I’m gonna. I’m gonna do whatever I. Whatever I must.”

He paused, waiting for his sign to come. I wanted nothing more than to march across the clearing and join him on the bench. To grab his face in my hands and tell him everything would be alright. My legs wouldn’t budge. In the same way I knew that I knew him, I understood I had to let him go. Even as he hung his head in defeat, and silent tears slid down my cheeks, I had to leave him alone.

If he so desperately needed a sign, my silence would have to suffice.


End file.
